


Sucker for Love

by messier51



Category: Aquaman - All Media Types, Justice League (2017)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bestiality, Captivity, Consensual Sex, Consentacles, Dildos, Double Penetration, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Marking, Nipple Play, Nipples, Ocean Sex, Octopus, Oral Sex, Other, PWP, Restraints, Sex Toys, Sex with an Octopus, Sharks, Shipwrecks, Swimming, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles, Underwater, Underwater Sex, aquaman tentacle porn, complete ignorance of anything related to any aquaman canon, genetically modified ocean predators, inspired by the Jason Momoa Aquaman, lots of sand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-26 15:44:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7580131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/messier51/pseuds/messier51
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aquaman escapes an enemy and finds love in the many arms of a genetically modified octopus named Zenith who is as beautiful and brilliant as he is curious.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sucker for Love

**Author's Note:**

> Searching for "Aquaman" + "Tentacle Porn" doesn't bring up anything worthwhile. There are, as of this moment, no tentacle sex stories involving Aquaman/Arthur Curry on ao3. It seems like an awful waste of a mythology. 
> 
> This story is my attempt to fix that. 
> 
> Caveats: I've never read any Aquaman comics. I've never watched anything where he was a main character; I did read the wiki page. The story is mostly fluffy pwp though so I'm not going to lose sleep over it.

  

 

Despite being drugged into slothful submission, Aquaman finally escapes the lead-lined cell that holds him captive. He finds no reprieve In the halls of the undersea mad scientist’s lair. He reaches out to the ocean life around him. He feels no friendly touch in return. To gather strength enough to compel any of the nearby fauna would drain him of the little strength he yet retains.

And so Aquaman sets the steel of his will and muscle into escaping the traditional way, moving unobtrusively through the complex of tunnels.

Too late, Aquaman notices the oddity. Too late, it occurs to him how little sense it makes that all the minds rejected him; they'd been outright hostile. They'd also been primarily large predatory creatures.

This is when Aquaman realizes he's being hunted. The smooth arch of the tunnel extend out in front of him and there’s no clear way out. He puts a hand to the wall, steadying himself. He can’t go back; he needs to push forward.

A tiger shark with large visible scarring tears down the hallway and Aquaman pushes it away mentally as he hurls himself around a corner. A tiny fire of hope blooms in Aquaman’s chest: there’s a door at the end of this hall. He can make it, he just has to outrace a shark that outclasses him in strength and speed. But it’s possible.

Aquaman ignores his screaming muscles as he pushes himself through the water. He _almost_ makes it before the shark catches up. Aquaman turns himself to better see and defend himself from slicing teeth, but the shark doesn’t slow down at all. Their collision drives Aquaman directly into the doorway and something gives behind him as sharp teeth narrowly miss his limbs. Aquaman expends the little strength he's held back for the long journey home, pushing the shark _away_ with his mind and reaching out one last time for help.

Somehow, he manages to slam the underwater complex’s door closed before the shark can resume its aggression. Tiger sharks aren’t that vicious for no reason. A constellation of bruises across Aquaman’s skin maps out needle punctures, a recent history of blood drawn and drugs administered. Whatever was happening in this cesspit of evil, they were altering the animals too.

When Aquaman catches his breath, he turns to find he'd been too slow, again. Two larger-than-life giant octopuses loomed in the ocean water in front of him. They've been altered too, like the shark. They're too big, and too interested in whether he stays or leaves. The shark batters the door behind, and Aquaman has no choice but to face forward.

The octopuses are too fast.

Aquaman’s head is fully engulfed by flesh and suckers before he can react. When he starts fighting against his capture he's being dragged across the floor of the ocean, and every bit of leverage he manages against the octopus results in another scratch against rocky outcroppings.

_Not struggle._

It's a request, coming from the mind of his captor, and it's wrapped in feelings of sincerity. Aquaman can't tell how long it-- _he_ \--has been trying to get through layers of fear and exhaustion to reach him. With no alternative anyway, Aquaman surrenders himself to the strange journey.

_Not hurt, safe soon._

Aquaman collects his focus enough to respond with understanding and sincerity: _Grateful._

He doesn’t know why this particular octopus decided to help him, whether his final pleas broke through or if this incredible creature is saving him out of the goodness of his three hearts.

The octopus’ suckers hold Aquaman firmly in place, and he relaxes in relative safety. He breathes in the salty current of water and holds on, enjoying the ride. When they reach the other side of the rocky outcroppings they’ve been traveling through, the octopus deposits Aquaman safely above a sandy ledge. The lair Aquaman was held in with all of its other genetically modified predators is far behind them now.

Tentacles unwrap themselves from Aquaman’s bare torso. He shivers a bit as the suckers pop off his skin, leaving marks in some places. It’s a pleasant sensation, and in his tired state of mind he almost reaches out to entangle himself in it again.

“Do you have a name?” Aquaman asks. He speaks aloud, while telepathically communicating his meaning.

_Identity?_ The octopus responds.

“Identity, yes. A thing to be called.”

_No identity,_ he confirms. _Follow orders, not hurt._

It cuts to the center of Aquaman’s chest that his savior would risk harm on his behalf, and for a loyalty unearned.

“I would like to call you something. If that’s okay with you. If there’s anything you’d like to be called?”

_Wondering_ \--the response feels playful. _Example?_

“Well, I’m called Aquaman.”

_Descriptive._

Aquaman feels the line of dry wit in the simple thought. His new friend is making fun of his name. He smiles broadly--it’s a good feeling.

“How about Zenith?”

_Zenith._ The word carries the meaning of self when the octopus tries it out. _Not descriptive._

“You’re the high point of my day, I think that counts.”

_Like. Am Zenith; may call._

The thoughts come quickly in succession, and Aquaman lets them wash over him. He smiles.

_Need leave._

The meaning worries at Aquaman’s smile.

“No… you don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he says, but it’s a purposeful misunderstanding. Zenith is leaving way too soon. _Not safe_ , he adds silently, infusing the thoughts with worry.

_Aquaman secret. Zenith secret. Safe._

“But…”

_Leave, safe. Stay, not safe._

Aquaman propels himself into the octopus’ personal space, but it’s a good point. He’s too tired to argue.

_Want safe,_ Zenith adds.

Aquaman’s hand finds Zenith’s nearest tentacle, which curls possessively around Aquaman’s wrist. A faint echo of _not intended_ comes through their psychic link, perhaps meant in apology or explanation. The nervous system of an octopus is significantly more complex than that of a human, and not always in full conscious control--Aquaman knows this, and yet? He almost feels guilty that it worked. The touch is what he wanted. He lets Zenith know this, and the hold on his arm solidifies.

“Come with me. You don’t have to serve--not back there like this. You wouldn’t have to serve me either, you don’t have to serve anyone. But, please, come away with me.” Aquaman admits to himself that he’s a bit smitten with the beautiful and brilliant octopus that saved his life. He adds, with as much adoration as he can, “We’d be good together, Zenith.”

_High point._

The meaning is complicated by Zenith’s emotions. He means himself--but he also means it as “yours.” But it’s not an agreement, and Aquaman feels his stomach drop.

_Home._

Zenith’s thoughts turn opaque, and no less complicated. Aquaman doesn’t fight to follow his thoughts, but doesn’t pull away.

Irrational sadness bubbles up from Aquaman’s deflated chest. He tries to push it back down, but his mental link with Zenith is mostly instinctive at this point, and as he speaks he can feel his emotions laid bare. His normal control of his gifts will recover with his physical and emotional strength, but by then it will be too late.

“I wouldn’t dream of taking you from your home. And you have my utmost gratitude. If you ever need anything from me, anything at all, let me know. I’ll hear you,” and he taps his head. “I’ll know.”

Zenith detaches himself again, and Aquaman gives the lingering tentacle in his hand a final squeeze before pushing off.

_Friend,_ is the warm thought that Zenith pours into the connection as he shoots off into the rocky labyrinth.

Aquaman swims away slower than he really ought to. He should be putting as much space between himself and that horrid facility he’d been held in. He needs to recover his strength before he’s faced with that challenge again.

Leaving Zenith behind feels like leaving a part of himself, though, and Aquaman drags himself homeward at a deliberate, moderate pace.

~~~

Aquaman pushes himself as far as he can; not far enough to feel safe and too far to see even the far side of the massive rock formations they'd escaped through. He knows he should go farther, but he can't find the strength within himself to swim another stroke. He flings himself down on the sandy floor and stares upward.

Light from the sun filters down in motes. Leagues of water press down on Aquaman’s chest. He squints against the light and pushes one hand upwards to fend off the cheerful fortitude that he's not ready for yet. In the bright light, his bruises are hard to see along the silhouette of his arm.

He cries tears that never have the chance to be tears, as they’re too much the same as the seawater.

A school of fish shifts through refracted rays of sunlight above. Aquaman lets his hand fall to the sand, disturbing a small cloud of silt and sand sediment. A crab shuffles up to assess the disturbance, and edges away when she sees nothing of interest. Aquaman pries down the walls of his mind to reach out to her.

_My apologies for the disturbance._

_Be more careful_ , she says in response.

It’s just like a crab, he supposes, to be terse and imperious. No use for niceties, or curiosity.

He reaches out to the fish, too. Nothing coherent: he has nothing to say to them. But he doesn’t feel alone anymore, and he feels bad that he’d shut everything out. He squishes his feet into the sand just to feel the grit between his toes and sucks in a deep breath of water.

It’s foolish to be so emotional about someone he only just met, no matter how elegant, or graceful. It’s just stockholm syndrome mixed with the heady rush of finally escaping. The adrenaline spike when he’d come so close to having been caught all over again--only to find himself free of the one grip he would’ve liked to have been held in for longer.

Aquaman lets out a groan of frustration, and looks upward again.

High above, a new, larger shape blocks out the sun. It moves in the graceful pulsations of an octopus. Like being bodyslammed by an undertow Aquaman _knows_. That’s Zenith, directly overhead.

He hesitates in reaching out to the octopus’ mind, thinking that it might be rude, or unseemly, or needy.

Just the same, Zenith comes right to him, as if he _had_ called out.

“Why are you here?” Aquaman asks at the same time that Zenith asks, _Crying reason?_

“I’m not...how can you even tell?”

_Not stay. Not want stay._

‘Want’ is a small thought in Zenith’s mind. It took him every bit of courage he possessed to act on his own wants.

Aquaman pushes his own feelings of want down. It would be easy enough to give Zenith a replacement for the master he'd only just escaped. Aquaman could throw his arms wide, smile, give Zenith the merest suggestion of how to make him happy and he had no doubt his octopus friend would follow his easy lead. He can't reach out and take away Zenith's newly gained free will, no matter how kind he'd be.

Instead of speaking aloud, he thinks; _happy for you_ , and sits up.

Zenith is pleased and confused in turn, though confusion comes through clearly as a positive emotion.

_Happy and Not Happy?_

“I’m a very complex man.”

_Complicated,_ Zenith agrees. It pleases him, and he’s obviously fascinated by the puzzle he sees Aquaman as.

Aquaman feels his cheeks heat a bit at the thought Zenith might be as fascinated in him as he is in the octopus.

_Change color!_

“Not as well as you do, though.”

Zenith shows off a bit, at that. He’s got more range in pigmentation than a giant pacific octopus ought to have, just like he’s larger than he ought to be. Aquaman pushes it down, he can ask another time.

“So what’s next for you?” He asks, instead.

_Good together._

It’s a statement, but it’s unsure. It’s what Aquaman said before…

“You’re free now, though. You don’t have to stay with me, or anyone.”

_Not want?_

The pure feeling of want that bubbles up in Aquaman’s stomach reaches Zenith before Aquaman can punch it down. If there’s one thing he wants right now, it’s for Zenith to stay.

“I meant it when I said we’d be good together. Of course I want that.”

_See ocean, maybe?_

“We can do that,” Aquaman smiles down at his hands. There’s less light filtering down from the surface. Maybe it’s cloudy above. “We can do whatever you want. We’ll see the whole world.”

Aquaman looks back up, to see Zenith directly in front, looking closely at his face. From so near, Aquaman can’t keep his hands from reaching out to trace a line of color differential on Zenith’s rough mantle. Zenith’s entire body ripples with gratification.

Zenith adjusts himself a bit before his tentacles wrap themselves around Aquaman’s wrists, hauling him forward up from the ocean floor.

_Need leave. Too near._

“All right. Let’s be on our way then…yeah. I’m glad you’re here, I don’t know how much farther I could make it alone.” Aquaman is tired, and a bit dizzy, but he feels sincerely happy, and comfortable.

As it gets dark, Zenith takes the lead. He knows where they’re going now, and they don’t waste energy communicating. Aquaman trusts that Zenith will get them where they need to go, and keep watch for any danger. All Aquaman has to do is keep on swimming forward.

As the ocean turns gray with morning sunlight around them, they make it to the shipwreck Aquaman calls home. It’s not much, but it’s comfortable, and it’s hidden. Aquaman feels a lot like the ship right now: damaged, tired, covered in a crusty layer of ocean. He forces himself to eat something to replenish his strength before collapsing onto the old sand-covered locker he’s been using as a bed. On the edge of consciousness, he apologizes for not being able to show Zenith the whole ocean yet.

“Maybe tomorrow,” he mumbles, pushing sand into a more comfortable shape beneath his neck.

_Sleep now_ , comes Zenith’s response, laced with humor, worry, and a little bit of command.

Aquaman sleeps well with the octopus curled protectively around him.

~~~

When he wakes up, Aquaman blushes at the sight of one tentacle arm floating in lazy circles just above his left nipple. The touch is just light enough to stimulate without feeling needy, and Aquaman thinks it might not be purposeful. He doesn’t let himself hope it might be, either.

When he looks at Zenith, he _feels_ the response of slight embarrassment at being found out.

Wholly on purpose, then.

Aquaman raises one perfectly arched eyebrow in appraisal, challenge, and encouragement. He doesn’t speak human or atlantean words, only responds in kind to the the octopus’ complex visceral thoughts: _Yes. More. Good_.

Zenith occupies a contained space just beside Aquaman with tentacles wrapped around his right arm and (to his mild amusement, he realizes) his left thigh. One drapes loosely over Aquaman’s stomach, drifting back and forth in time with Aquaman’s breaths. The one hovering over his nipple curls inwards in hesitation.

Aquaman breathes out patience and waits. He lets his _want_ sit palpable in the space between them, but doesn’t push. This decision needs to be Zenith’s to make.

Luckily, Zenith decides quickly. In the space between two heartbeats, the octopus moves to occupy the space above Aquaman. Zenith spreads himself out fully, showing his magnificent size. A pattern of dark spots forms across the expanse of flesh, stark against now-lighter skin. It pulls a broad smile out of Aquaman: the octopus is mimicking his tattoos. Confident that Aquaman understood and enjoyed his demonstration, Zenith shifts through a few other patterns, showing off. One eye takes in the entirety of Aquaman, then the other.

Aquaman stretches out his torso and pulls his hair free from its leather binding. He flexes his muscles _just enough_ to be clear that he can show off, too. Zenith’s second eye lingers on Aquaman’s pants, so he hitches a thumb under the waistband.

Aquaman slides his thumb all the way across his waistline, enjoying the feel of his own thumbnail, firm against his abdominal muscles. “Want?” he asks.

_Want_ , comes the response.

One tentacle traces downward to flip a loose hair out of Aquaman’s face. It traces down his cheekbone and lingers for a moment at Aquaman’s lips. Aquaman lets his tongue dart out to briefly taste Zenith’s cool, smooth skin. And swallows hard.

The tentacle drags slowly down, grazing over Aquaman’s skin. Three more that he can see above him curl and dance in fractious delight. Their motion is pure joy. The intense delight pulls a deep, hearty laugh out of Aquaman that Zenith mimics with his entire body.

Aquaman can feel other tentacles undressing him, but he can’t take his eyes off of Zenith’s face or keep his thoughts away from the wordless joy Zenith is emanating. There’s pleasure from making Aquaman laugh, and excitement and pleasure and companionship. There’s also delight in exploring Aquaman as a human; as a puzzle to solve. It’s a heady experience, to connect so deeply with a mind so foreign.

A single suction cup fastens onto Aquaman’s nipple and pulls slightly. Aquaman fills his lungs with water, but it the extra oxygen fails to bring any calm. At the same time, a second suctioning tentacle pulls at his other nipple, and he can feel featherlight touches along the v-line of his external obliques. Aquaman relaxes into the touches, letting himself be cradled in the sensation.

Aquaman finds the core of his feelings. It gives him enough focus to open his eyes and see that Zenith has lifted him up, and has released his nipples. A few feet below them, Aquaman’s bed bears his discarded pants and blurry impressions in the sand--the sand that gets everywhere--as evidence of their activity. Zenith is busy attaching suction cups to each of Aquaman’s toes in turn and then letting them go, which is pleasant enough (if a little ticklish) but it’s not arousing. It gives him a moment to breathe. Floating in the middle of the cavernous ship’s broken-down interior, there’s nothing solid within reach to hold onto. Except for Zenith.

Three of Zenith’s tentacles tangle around Aquaman’s legs. One loosens, slides farther up and then settles loosely around the meat of his thigh. Aquaman expels most of the water in his chest in a gasp of pleasure. This time he reaches for the octopus instead of losing himself fully to his own feelings.

_May I?_ Aquaman can’t manage the words vocally, so he forms them in his mind alone. The affirmative response vibrates through his mind.

Aquaman pulls loose the nearest tentacle from his thigh, glorying at the each tug a loosening sucker gives his skin. He traces out a the line between each set of suckers as they come free. When he finishes, the tentacle wraps itself around his arm possessively.

The tentacle adjacent to the one Aquaman’s sporting as a sleeve is within easy reach now, so he takes a handful of it out of the water in front of him. He draws the two legs apart. The grip on his arm tightens as Zenith’s web skin goes taut.

Aquaman fingers along the suction cup lines of skin, and then runs his tongue alongside a set of suckers. Zenith pulls away from his toes, wrapping itself around Aquaman’s head in a blur.

_Yes,_ is all the impression Aquaman gets before: _Sorry. Breathe?_

“Little scary. _Not_ bad.”

Kind of thrilling, Aquaman thinks--though he keeps the thought to himself for now. Maybe they can try that later.

Zenith is pleased nonetheless. After they pause to untangle a hair from one of Zenith’s tentacles, he starts semi-methodically investigating Aquaman’s head. His hair, his throat. His mouth. Zenith catalogs every reaction he provokes. A few of Zenith’s tentacles wrap themselves back around Aquaman’s shoulder and arms where they can feel every squirm and wriggle that their counterparts produce. Aquaman barely notices.

A stray desire for kissing escapes Aquaman and he feels bad for a moment. Octopode mouths are so different from human ones, and don’t have the same sort of tongues. Zenith considers the oral craving a challenge instead of a setback, and offers up one of his tentacles for the experiment.

What the tentacle lacks in kissing ability it more than makes up for with new sensations. The overall experience is interesting--though not Aquaman’s favorite part so far. Zenith, for his part, enjoys the feeling of Aquaman’s teeth. A half-formed question pesters at Aquaman for a moment before he can resolve it.

_Hectocotylus, mouth? Teeth?_

The pure novelty of giving an octopus a blowjob has Aquaman’s attention. The chance to try out something Zenith wants to do flips another switch inside of him and he finds himself more than amenable.

It doesn’t look a whole lot different than the one that’s there, maybe a little less agile. The ligula on the end of it is more tongue-like than the other tentacles. When it pushes into Aquaman’s mouth, he reaches to help it, only to feel tentacles hold his arms more firmly in place--and one of his nipple suckers is back. He likes that better than having the suckers in his mouth, and he squirms a little in pleasure to demonstrate that fact. A single tentacle finds its way to his balls, feeling them out.

The combination of sensations is enough that Aquaman stops thinking and just feels.

He forgets too quickly how fast he’s being held, because the tentacles holding him in place stymy Aquaman’s attempt to reach for his unattended dick. There’s just enough of a current to caress his very sensitive skin with chilly water, as if the Ocean herself has decided to take part in their tryst. No amount of writhing in blissful agony gives him any purchase, floating as they are in the middle of the dim space.

To Aquaman’s mild disappointment, Zenith’s hectocotylus doesn’t get fully hard the way a human’s would. Aquaman wants all of these feelings, and he wants to share them with Zenith. As with kissing, Zenith takes Aquaman’s unfeasible desires as a challenge instead of a failing on his own part. The octopus seems to better understand their differences than Aquaman does, and certainly Zenith revels in the chance to figure them out.

_Beautiful_ , Aquaman thinks out loud. He could watch Zenith solve problems all day.

Zenith, for his part, takes his lack of bones as a challenge to be met: and the tentacle exploring Aquaman’s balls moves lower. Another wraps itself around Aquaman’s cock and just holds. Aquaman is scared to breathe for a moment, and then one serious eye is focused on his own.

_Okay?_

Aquaman nods. _Fantastic even_.

Zenith is very pleased by this. Webbed skin and tentacles fan out in front of Aquaman’s face.

_Mouth?_ queries Zenith, with a tone of want. Aquaman obliges, paying special attention to the shifts in Zenith’s color that give away which bits are sensitive even quicker than peeling apart the octopus’ thoughts.

Zenith’s tentacle wraps itself more fully around Aquaman’s erect cock. The shifting feeling of pull and squeeze of suckers and muscle along his skin is too much. Aquaman moans into Zenith’s skin. Tentacles seek out the sound along Aquaman’s neck and mouth as Zenith tries to reproduce the reaction, with similar results.

Zenith really likes the vibrations, so Aquaman hums as he pulls one of the larger suckers along Zenith’s webbing into his mouth. Aquaman presses up into the tentacles gripping him, though it provides none of the resistance he wants. He wants more; he _needs_.

“Zenith--hands?” Aquaman asks in a teasing whisper between suckers.

Zenith shivers with the new sound-feeling, and frees up Aquaman’s arms enough that he can move them. With one hand, he re-establishes the tight grasp that holds him to the tentacle, but takes a handful of octopus-muscle into his grip too. Holding onto each other gives Aquaman the leverage to pull himself even tighter against Zenith.

_Taste good_ , thinks Zenith, sharing thousands of impressions of sensation.

With his other hand, Aquaman reaches between his legs to guide the tentacle that’s been hesitantly teasing his buttcheeks with feather-light touches.

_Hectocotylus,_ Aquaman thinks with renewed need for haste at the new thought that’s struck him. An image forms in his head of Zenith filling him up, connected body and mind. The other tentacles have too many suckers, and while a tugging attachment might have an interesting feeling--the tongue-like nature of Zenith’s reproductive organ should suit the purposes of his imagination better.

Zenith catches on quickly and wraps tentacles firmly around both of Aquaman’s legs, coaxing them apart and squeezing at them. Aquaman guides Zenith’s cock tentacle into himself. They go slowly at first, and then faster as Aquaman and Zenith open up their minds to each other fully. It feels like there are tentacles everywhere, pulling and pressing at all the right places. There’s warmth too, and Aquaman realizes that it’s his, leaching through his skin into everything he’s touching. The salty not-quite-ocean flavor is him, too. The intense pleasure is his and not-his, and theirs together.

When Aquaman gets close to climaxing, Zenith pulls his hectocotylus up to join it with Aquaman’s penis in a single point of pleasure between them. Other tentacles wrap themselves firmly around Aquaman’s ass, pulling them closer. Aquaman wraps a hand around them and he finishes in a haze of sensation overload.

They stay wrapped up around each other for a while, floating. A cool current of water draws Aquaman’s hair out above his head, and one of Zenith’s tentacles traces over tattoo lines.

Instead of closing off their mental connection again, Aquaman leans into it. Their thoughts are really still separate, as are their wants and needs. Zenith’s thoughts skate around the edge of his consciousness as gracefully as the octopus moves himself, small ideas unraveling into larger ones and then collapsing down into a memory to be stored away for later. Aquaman follows Zenith’s reverie as he watches Zenith change color under the gentle touch of his own fingers. By the time they push themselves back to Aquaman’s bed, they’re both ready to explore more of each other.

Zenith produces a spot of color for every kiss Aquaman leaves on his chromatic skin. In return, Zenith sucks bruises into the non-tattooed stretches of skin on Aquaman’s chest and neck.

Zenith enjoys this sort of kissing, and the effect it has on Aquaman’s hardening dick. Arousal refills their connected minds.

They go slower this time. Zenith’s kiss lines get more complicated as he lays down suckers along more sensitive skin. Zenith pries each sucker off with a pop, individually, leaving Aquaman a little breathless.

Zenith seizes on the fact that Aquaman had been somewhat unfulfilled when he’d pulled out at the end of their last session. A number of possible solutions dance through Zenith’s mind, but it’s one of Aquaman’s suggestions he reaches for.

Aquaman rolls over onto his stomach and brushes some of the accumulated sand off of his makeshift bed. He grabs the sides of it as Zenith rummages through the ancient treasure chest on the other wall. Zenith broadcasts delight and excitement when he finds the things he was looking for.

Two tentacles wrap themselves around Aquaman’s chest while others play with the container of silicone-based lube Aquaman keeps specifically for use with the item Zenith is examining with yet another tentacle. It’s an easy enough for Zenith to work out the mechanics, even without specific instructions. Aquaman grips the bed tighter when Zenith uses one agile tentacle to apply lube, anchoring himself.

Zenith’s tentacles tighten on him to do likewise--Zenith anchoring himself to Aquaman. Though they left words behind a long time ago now, there are none left that Aquaman can think of to describe their fusion.

Aquaman feels the dildo slide into himself as he experiences it from Zenith’s point of view. For a moment, he presses his forehead to the sand and breathes while Zenith continues gentle explorations with both tentacles and toy.

When he’s adjusted to the feeling of something a little more sturdy than tentacles, another feeling of want overtakes them. It’s not fully Aquaman’s, or Zenith’s, but it belongs to both of them together.

_More._

Zenith’s suckers pull Aquaman apart until he can’t take anymore, and his hectocotylus, slicked with lube, inserts itself up snug with the dildo.

_More._

They move together, they can’t do otherwise. Like a rolling wave, like an earthquake pulling the continents apart.

_More._

Zenith splays the bulk of his sucker-strewn webbing out over Aquaman’s perfectly toned ass. He pulls himself forward, grasping at Aquaman’s forearms and wrists, and pushes Aquaman face down into the scattering of sand that used to be his pillow. Zenith resumes his thrusting.

_More._

Another thought strikes them, and then suckers are ripping off Aquaman’s ass, coming away, and slamming back into him in time with the thrusts currently massaging his prostate. All with the same graceful agility that the octopus does everything else.

Aquaman shouts meaningless obscenities into his bed with every slam of skin against skin, and Zenith wraps a tentacle loosely around his neck to feel the vibrations in his throat.

Another tentacle glides around the base of Aquaman’s cock. He can feel his hard nipples rub against gritty sand each time he gets pummeled into his bed.

When the point of release comes (and it _comes_ ) they feed off each others’ pleasure and satisfaction. They have nothing left to offer each other, because there is nothing they don’t already share. This time, they sleep afterwards.

~~~

Aquaman wakes up slightly disoriented as an individual, instead of a two-bodied connection. His consciousness slides along the slack link easily, touching minds before retreating back into himself. Zenith immediately glows with the excitement of new things known and unknown, and it’s just as rewarding to experience separately as together.

Aquaman doesn’t put his pants back on for a few days, and every time he sees the smattering of sucker-hickey bruises on his ass he smiles.

As he settles back into his daily routine, Zenith settles into a life alongside him. Eventually they visit the rest of the ocean.

Aquaman shows Zenith all of it: his favorite reefs, the pollution caused by men and the sparkling lights of their shining cities, every beautiful nook and cranny and island they can find. Zenith loves every minute of it. Exploring together they both learn new things about the ocean and each other. Zenith loves putting all the pieces together to figure out each new problem. Zenith’s favorite puzzle by far is to find new things that make Aquaman smile because, even through the deep connection their minds share, they’re both discovering new things all the time.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to alec, scorn, elle, sari, and cee for your edits, advice, questions, octopus facts, encouragement, and peer pressure. Extra thanks to scorn for checking my "octopus syntax." You're the coolest linguist ever ;) (Yeah that's a lot of beta readers for something this short. In my defense, sex with octopuses is complicated.) 
> 
> I hope this story is worth all those pictures of octopuses I inflicted on you.
> 
> To everyone else: thanks for reading <3 Feel free to leave suggestions/critique.


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